


The Cyborg Trilogy

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cyborg!Dean, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-14
Updated: 2007-11-14
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Sam couldn't hear anything but the faint, persistent buzz of Dean's CPU, as reassuring as a heartbeat.





	

Dean 2.0  


Dean was different now, of course, but in the important ways he was exactly the same. He still listened to Led Zeppelin on repeat for hours at a time, but now Sam didn't get annoyed if the same song played forty-seven times, because Dean was plugged directly into the stereo, and Sam couldn't hear anything but the faint, persistent buzz of Dean's CPU, as reassuring as a heartbeat.

Dean still screwed his eyes shut and gasped out Sam's name when he came, but now Sam could sometimes see electric lightning playing under his eyelids, and the sheets ripped like paper underneath his clenched fists. When he was holding onto the headboard, they usually had to sneak out early the next morning, before the motel manager saw the pile of sawdust and splinters that used to be a bed.

Being stronger, faster and pretty damn near invulnerable made hunting much easier, and really cut down on the amount of patching up they had to do after a case. Sam didn't even have to worry about Dean electrocuting himself again when they used the tasers, because he carried around spare capacitors everywhere they went, as well as some other basic electronics supplies in case Dean short-circuited or his battery ran down. And, of course, his built-in EMF reader meant that they were always able to gauge the level of supernatural activity without having to carry bulky equipment around with them, even if they did get some funny looks when Dean's left forearm started to beep.

The best bit, though, was the look on the Crossroad Demon's face when she realised that there was no way she could take Dean's soul whilst it was housed in a body of metal and wires, and Dean's triumphant smirk when they'd gone back to the motel room, both of them still alive, and with nothing hanging over their heads. In the moment before Dean tackled him to the bed and wiped all thought from Sam's mind except 'yes' and 'more' and 'harder,' Sam decided that Dean 2.0 was just as good, if not better, than the original.

 

****

 

 

Anthropomorphic Angst  


Being a cyborg sucked out loud. Sure, he was super-strong and fast and could leap straight back up after being thrown into a wall (which happened a lot less now as well - seemed even angry spirits had problems chucking a 400 pound hunk of metal around), but none of that even came close to making up for the drawbacks.

The first thing that made him realise it wasn't all going to be as awesome as Sam seemed to think was that he couldn't eat any more. He was so used to starting the day with a hot, steaming cup of coffee; or making a day of long driving better by indulging in a greasy, cooked-to-perfection burger; or just mainlining M&Ms when Sam was being particularly whiny; and now he couldn't even grab a beer. Worse still, after a while he found himself forgetting how things tasted, or what it was like to feel them in his mouth, until when he watched Sam eat all he could remember was a vague feeling of pleasure.

It took a while for his inability to sleep to annoy him - after all, who doesn't want more hours in a day to get things done? Problem was, he didn't really have anything else he could be doing most nights, not when Sam still had to sleep and everywhere was shut. He found himself spending his nights surfing the web aimlessly and watching Sam sleep, wondering what he was dreaming about. It seemed stupid to wish he could still dream, but he found he missed it almost as much as food.

The absolute worse thing about being a cyborg, though, was that he could see Sam growing older and he knew that he never would. One day, Sam would die, and Dean would be left alone and stuck in this body forever. The Crossroads Demon still had dibs on his soul, after all, and if he let this body rust, or tried to escape it to follow Sam when he went, she'd drag him down to Hell faster than he could reload a shotgun, which was impressively fast these days.

Sam didn't seem to have realised that his solution to The Deal had left Dean doomed to the worst fate he could imagine - being forced to watch everyone he cared about die, while he just kept going on and on. Sam thought the cyborg thing was the best thing that had ever happened to them, so Dean kept his mouth shut about it, and tried to play along. After all, he only had so much time to spend with Sam now, and he wasn't going to waste any of it in recriminations, especially when all that would achieve would be to upset Sam.

He had all of eternity to regret agreeing to this stupid plan. It could wait for fifty-odd years until Sam died and Dean was left with nothing but time to think about him and wonder if Hell would really be that bad after all.

 

****

 

 

Improving The Future  


Sam might be a bit oblivious sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. The third time he woke up to find Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, just watching him sleep with a melancholy look, Sam realised that something was definitely up.

Dean being who he was, it took Sam another month to get out of him what it was. It took a careful plan of action, combining constantly asking Dean what was wrong in tones of increasing frustration, with a sustained campaign of sex (well, okay, maybe Sam would have done that anyway, but this sex had a purpose, and therefore was allowed to be counted as part of the plan.) The final stage of the plan combined both. First he fucked Dean into the mattress until he was wrung out and exhausted, lying collapsed on the sheets and glistening with sweat, then he huffed a little sigh, gave Dean his very best, 'but don't you love me?' look, and tried again.

"Dean," he said in a soft voice. "If this isn't making you happy, maybe we should stop."

Dean's eyes widened in panic. "What makes you think this isn't making me happy?" he said slightly desperately.

Sam sighed again. "Well, something's clearly up, and this is the only thing I could think of."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not this," he said, putting his hand on Sam's chest. "It'll never be this." Dean's skin felt the same now that he was a cyborg, but the structure underneath was harder, somehow. Sam had got so used to it now, he could barely remember what it was like to be touched by a real body.

Sam pursed his lips. "Well, what is it then?"

Dean's eyes slid away from Sam's. "Nothing," he said, grumpily. "Just...just lie down and go to sleep already."

"Dean, come on, I know there's something up."

Dean sighed and then sat up, carefully pulling his legs out from underneath Sam. "It's nothing," he said. "Go to sleep - I'll have a look and see if I can find us a hunt."

"No," said Sam firmly, putting both hands on Dean's shoulders, even though he had no hope of keeping Dean in place if he really wanted to get away. "It's something, or you wouldn't be hiding it. Just tell me, Dean, please."

Dean bit his lower lip and looked away. "You don't...Sam, you don't want to hear this," he said, so quietly that Sam wasn't sure for a moment what he'd said.

"Of course I do," he said firmly. "I want to hear everything, Dean. It's just you and me, we can't have any secrets, not anymore. You know that just ends up fucking us up."

Dean gritted his teeth. "Yeah, okay, it's just you and me now," he said, suddenly sounding aggressive, with an edge of bitterness. "But how long is that going to last? How long do you think you've got? Hunting isn't exactly a risk-free life, and even if you make it to old age, you're still going to die. Then it's just going to be me."

Sam blinked with realisation, and Dean took the opportunity of his momentary pause to pull away and get out of the bed. "Nothing that can be done about it," he said gruffly. "Go to sleep, Sam."

Sam didn't move for another few minutes, as his mind sorted through this new information. He really hadn't thought much about what making Dean a cyborg would mean for the long-term future - they never really did think beyond the next couple of years, because death always seemed to be just round the corner. Now, future was all that Dean had, and in the expanse of his artificially-elongated life, Sam's remaining years were like a drop in the ocean.

When Sam did lie down, he didn't go to sleep immediately. His mind seemed stuck on the blank resignation in Dean's eyes, and the way his voice had cracked ever so very slightly when he'd said, _you're still going to die._

 

****

 

It took six months for Sam to decide on a plan of action. It had only taken him a day to come up with it, but he'd had to think it through carefully, make sure that it was exactly what he wanted to do. In the end, all he really needed to see in order to know what to do, was the way Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off him these days, as if he was holding on to him with everything he had in the time Sam had left.

Sam made all the arrangements in secret, then waited until Dean was out doing laundry before hot-wiring a car and taking off, leaving a carefully worded note behind him.

_Dean,_

I've got somewhere I have to be for about a week. I'm not going to be able to answer my phone, but I'll phone you when I'm done, and then come find you.

Don't be too pissed - this is important.

Sam

 

****

 

It took him a while to pluck up the courage to knock on Dean's motel room door a week later. He was suddenly second-guessing himself - what if Dean hated what he'd done? Sam took a deep breath, reminded himself of all the reasons he'd done it and that surely even Dean wouldn't object too hard to something that would give him what he wanted, then he carefully knocked.

The door flew open almost immediately. Dean had sounded supremely pissed on the phone earlier, his sentences clipped and short as if he was barely holding in an outburst, so Sam was expecting a rant before he was able to explain himself, but just as Dean was opening his mouth to hold forth, he stopped dead, staring at Sam with dawning horror. Obviously, something about Sam's appearance had changed enough for Dean to be able to see the change in Sam, or maybe he just knew everything about Sam so well that he could tell that where Sam had been flesh and bone, he was now metal and wires.

"Oh, god, Sammy, what did you do?" Dean whispered hoarsely.

Sam shrugged and stepped inside the room, glancing around it to avoid seeing the look in Dean's eyes. "What I had to," he said, which wasn't really an answer but he didn't know what else to say.

"Sam," said Dean again, almost sounding pained, and staring at him still. "Sam...you shouldn't have done this."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, and sat down on the bed, wincing when it gave an ominous groan at his weight. "What else should I have done? Come on, Dean, how else could we have fixed this?"

Dean shook his head in disbelief, but said nothing.

Sam started to count off the benefits on his fingers. "I'm strong and fast now as well, so I won't be a liability on hunts, you don't have to worry about me getting hurt, and..." he met Dean's eyes squarely, "it's you and me now, until...until the end of everything."

Dean finally managed to pull himself out of his shock, shutting the door with a slam. "You shouldn't have done this," he said again, but now anger was thrumming through his voice. "This is...Sam! Are you insane? What made you think this would be a good idea?!"

Sam shrugged. "I promised I wouldn't leave you," he said. "And I'm not going to."

Dean's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out with frustration and rage. "Sam, you...don't you get it? You're stuck like this! There's no going back!"

"I know," Sam snapped back, "Jesus, Dean, of course I know. I don't want to." He stood up and took a step towards Dean, wondering how he could get Dean past his initial reaction to this and see that it really was for the best, for both of them.

Dean snorted and looked away. "Not yet," he said.

Sam grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back round to face him, realising with a shock that he was strong enough to manhandle Dean again. "Not ever," he said firmly. "Dean, it's okay. It's going to be you and me, right? That's all I want."

Dean still looked incredibly sceptical and pissed off, so Sam grabbed his face and pulled him in for a hard kiss. "Just me and you," he repeated, breathing it against Dean's mouth.

"Sam," said Dean again, but it sounded like a surrender, so Sam just kissed him again, even harder, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't really hurt Dean, even if he used all his new strength, as he shoved him back against the wall.

Dean gasped and for a moment Sam thought he was going to get shoved away, then Dean's hands were burrowing under his shirts, rubbing over his back, and Dean was kissing him back with just as much emotion.

 

****

 

"You're different now," said Dean quietly afterwards, as they were coming down, lying close with their skin pressed together. He was running his fingers down across Sam's body, as if trying to relearn it.

Sam shrugged slightly. "So were you," he said.

"Yeah," agreed Dean with a sigh. "Sam..." His fingers stopped moving as he pulled himself up on why elbow to meet Sam's eyes. "You really shouldn't have done this for me."

Sam snorted. "Bullshit." Dean looked away, but not before Sam caught his grimace. "I don't get why you think this is a bad thing. I'm not going to die and leave you alone, Dean, I thought that was what you wanted." He paused, then realised something else. "Plus, if neither of us has to sleep, we can just have sex all night, every night."

"Until our batteries run out," pointed out Dean, but something in his eyes had relaxed slightly. "Fine, it's a good thing. Just don't come whining to me in five years when you're sick of it."

Sam laughed, and rolled over to pull Dean closer. "I won't," he promised, "Not in five years, not in twenty years, not in a hundred." He wrapped himself around Dean and kissed him. "It's just you and me," he whispered, and this time, Dean seemed to hear him.

"Yeah," he agreed, then ran his hand down to Sam's ass and squeezed it. "So what about we get on with that all-night sex marathon?"

Sam grinned and kissed him again.

****


End file.
